“If I could only understand the game,” muttered the puzzled Van Klopen.
“There is no necessity for that now; only act up to your instructions.”
“I will obey, but remember that we shall not only lose her custom, but that of all her acquaintance.”
Again the same angry sounds were heard in the corridor.
“It is scandalous,” cried a voice. “I have been waiting an hour; my sword and armor. What, ho, lackeys; hither, I say. Van Klopen is engaged, is he? Hie to him and say I must see him at once.”
The two accomplices exchanged looks, as though they recognized the shrill, squeaky voice.
“That is our man,” whispered Mascarin, as the door was violently flung open, and Gaston de Gandelu burst in. He was dressed even more extravagantly than usual, and his face was inflamed with rage.
“Here am I,” cried he; “and an awful rage I am in. Why, I have been waiting twenty minutes. I don’t care a curse for your rules and regulations.”
The tailor was furious at this intrusion; but as Mascarin was present, and he felt that he must respect his orders, he by a great effort controlled himself.
“Had I known, sir,” said he sulkily, “that you were here——”